The calm imposed by Yvan had barely settled when the snow froze again.
The wind picked up slightly—but it was no longer the chaotic blizzard from before. This was a cold shiver, ordered, controlled, as if the dungeon itself were holding its breath.
And then…
Two vertical, slitted pupils gleamed through the mist about fifteen meters ahead unnaturally yellow, burning. They were visible for the span of a heartbeat. Then, gone.
No footsteps. No sound. Just the immediate absence of light.
— "Contact," Yvan whispered.
He raised his sword in one sharp, calm, controlled motion.
And in the seconds that followed, the ground exploded.
A metallic shriek cut through the air—sharp, slicing, like the scream of two blades clashing in a vacuum. A flash of light tore the mist apart. But no enemy was visible.
The team cried out, stumbling back, hands shielding their eyes.
— "WHAT—?!" shouted Charlotte. "What was that?!"
Isaac didn't move. He was watching Yvan.
